Mom cleans the rooms so we can stay
rent free. Two beds, a bathroom, and a TV –
the Olympics are playing which is
important to me. I never miss a chance to see
the tumbling girls, swimming women, running
stars who win gold medals. Some of them
younger than me and they already have a life
the whole world is watching.
Mom once said it was too late for me
that gymnasts are made as children
not teens. I could do other things instead.
Still, I practice balancing on the concrete wall
that divides the Motel from the grocery.
I walk-leap-walk and kick, then spin without falling
into the parking lot (automatic deduction)
and finally dismount, hands to the sky in victory.
Mom will wonder where I am if I’m late
getting in and I’m sure everyone wants
to eat, so I go home when the sky turns
streaked. And when I walk in, the coffee
pot is already on. It’s filling with water
as the crushed ramen noodles spin past
one another, competing for space in their
cramped chamber. But ramen are used to this.
I sit next to my brother on our bed.
We are putting peanut butter on bread. I
remember when we had a fridge and ate
butter. Peanut butter and butter was almost
as good as Kraft macaroni and cheese. And I wonder
if mom could boil noodles in our coffee pot
and if we could use powdered milk (and skip
the butter) if it would taste at all the same
as the dinner I loved. When Hurricane Gilbert came
we had to move across the street to another motel
that didn’t want a maid. Mom got a hot plate and
cooked sandwiches and we weren’t to watch TV
all day anymore. So I practiced twirling around
the stairs, jumping into the air like a gymnast on uneven bars.
And as the wind picked up, I felt myself grow lighter
until eventually I could lift my body into the sky in victory.
–Heather Dorn